Hogwarts Drabbles
by DaughterofHypnos17
Summary: Just a bunch of fluffy and cute Drabbles to carry you through the day, Read it, It's cute :)
1. Sooner or Later

Draco's P.O.V

"Harry, I don't Think I can do it," I turn to look at the black haired boy, wetting my t-shirt with dishwater.

He softly pecks my lips, "You'll do Just fine, if they love you, they'll except you. You have to do it sooner than later."

"I pick later."

"I told my family the minute we went out to lunch, they reacted fine," his chin resting against my shoulder.

"Easy for you to say, Mr. Muggleborn Mum, Jail ridden Godfather, and werewolf Uncle."

The green eyed boy chuckles, gently nuzzling the back of my neck, "Fair enough."

"Come, into the parlour," I drain the sink and dry my hands.

After the battle I haven't used magic as much, mostly due to fear of being shut in Azkaban and Harry being at my beck and call. We went out for coffee after he spoke in me, and my mothers favours during trials; I, rather unfortunately, fell in love with the boy.

"Mother, Father, I hope you enjoyed dinner?" I say, meanwhile situating myself on the sofa.

A Dip in the couch tells me Harry has joined us. He rests his hand on my lower back, incognito.

"Dinner was just fine Draco," my fathers words are followed by a sip of wine.

My mother huffs, "Draco, you've never invited us to dinner before, why now?"

I ever thought statements said by mothers could ever deflate ones esteem.

"Mother, I'm, um, I'm," my heart beat picks up pace.

Harry's hand begins to move in soothing, circular motions, "Take a deep breath."

"I'm Gay."

My nerves only deepen when the look of shock finally registers on my parents faces. Their eyes contorted upwards, noses scrunched and lips in thin lines.

My Mother is the first to snap out of the face, "Draco, we love you, no matter what; you're our only son."

"Draco," My father spits, "I was quite the bi-curious lad in my sixth year, who's the guy."

I never thought they'd be so calm about the situation, or that my father was into blokes, It'll take weeks to get that image out of my head. I intertwine my fingers with Harry's calloused ones.

"Harrys the lucky guy," my eyes lock with his, before my cheeks flourish red.

Mothers gloved hands fly to her mouth to suppress a gasp, "For how long?"

Harry turns towards her, our eye contact finally breaking, "A year and three months."

A smack reverberates through my arm, "Draco," mother screeches, "so long without telling me."

"Sorry mum," I shrug.

She pulls me into a bone crushing hug, "It's not a problem dear, I just want Grandkids sooner rather than later."

"Don't worry Mrs. Malfoy, we've already filled out applications," Harry pipes up, earning himself a smack.


	2. Magic Isn't Real

"Vivianna," green eyes look so deep they could penetrate my soul without knowing they did, "I'm a wizard."

A Wizard, a wizard; my brain continues to attempt to fathom what Harry's telling me. I can only imagine my facial expression; blue eyes, round with awe and disbelief, lips in the shape of an O.

"B-but wizards don't exist, they're fantasy, people can't do magic," blurting out words without my brains permission.

"Wizards can," the black haired boy inputs.

"No they can't," I fume, "Magic isn't real, it can't be."

My knees finally give out and I crumble to the floor; bringing my knees into my chest, beginning to tremble. I feel Harry circle his arms around me, his heartbeat calming my emotions.

"Viv, I know this is hard to believe, but," he pauses, inhaling deeply, "please believe me," his voice almost desperate.

I lift my baby blues passively up to his eyes, "Prove it," I whimper.

Before I know whats happening, silver mist begins to manipulate around me, small creatures forming before my eyes. The mythical beings dancing, entertaining me, putting on a show, all at the wave of the raven-haired boys hand.

"Harry, this is," I close my mouth, unable to find words to describe the situation.

A smirk crawls up his lips, "I believe the word you're looking for is Magical."

My hands flies to smack his chest, both of us giggling lightly.

"Does this mean you could conjure up ice cream any time I want?" I ask, genuine curiosity.

He chuckles lightheartedly, "I guess I could."

"Thats great," Another idea comes to mind, "and what about burgers, with fries!"

His chuckles grow into booming laughter, "Is your only interest in magic food related?"

"I don't see how else to use it, murder?" I joke.

With the wave of his hand two ice cream cones appear; he smiles, handing one of the two to me.

"Thanks," I murmur, taking a lick and grinning at the taste of sharp vanilla.

"What else are best friends for."


	3. Meeting The Man Upstairs

Ron's P.O.V

Getting stabbed isn't the worst way to die, but it sure ain't the best. It was, well, a stabbing pain, in my left side to be exact. It was fairly quick, minimal suffering; life just kinda faded to black, until I woke up in a hospital bed.

"Where the bloody hell am I," I shout into the blank room.

"Calm down," a soothing voice attached to a pretty face, attempts to calm me.

I give her a good look over, platinum blonde hair, soft brown eyes, and face that looked to be made of plush pillows. A few more moments of staring took my eyes to the gigantic feathered wings sprouting from her back.

"Where am I," my voice shaking slightly.

"Oh dear," she pats my knee, "Your in heaven."

"Heaven," I breath.

"Heaven," she reassures, "You're on your way to see the man upstairs," she giggle lightly, "Or well, down the hall."

"So, I'm dead," I ask, for clarification.

"You're more than dead deary, your funeral was three weeks ago. At this point, you're six feet under."

Realization finally sets in, I'm dead, I've been dead for a while. How's My family, how's Hermione, or Rose, or Hugo.

"Are they ok?" I ask, hopeful eyes trying to read her.

"They're going to be ok, don't worry, dear, you saved a lot of lives with your sacrifice," she looks me with the same sympathy and hope Hermione always manage to muster up.

She flaps her white wings slightly as she takes off my bandages, ruffling my red locks a little bit.

"You're going to do great, the big guys going too love you," she tugs on my shoulders, "Just be yourself, its easiest, and you'll avoid downstairs time later on as well," she sighs and hands me a card, "Call this if your ever need anything, ok deary."

I hug the girl, careful to avoid her wings, "Thank you."

I walk towards the entrance t the end of the hall, waving to the girl who patched me up. Take a deep breath, You've got this Ron.


	4. Holmes Prologue

"You're such a loser Potter, couldn't even get sorted into Gryffindor, you unless git," the bullies shout.

A punch strikes my cheek, I can already feel the vessels breaking and a bruise beginning to form on my already swollen cheek. I had grown accustomed to the daily beatings; I've never told anyone either, James would go ballistic.

Instead, I hid away in Moaning Myrtles bathroom, silently patching my wounds, trying not to disturb the estranged girls sobbing. After finally reaching the bathroom, I can let it out, the hot and heavy, tears that have been blurring my vision for agonizingly long minutes finally fall, leaving wet tracks across my pummelled face.

"Why," I murmur, the anger bubbling at the surface, "Why me, why does all the bad shit happen to me," the wet drops of salt tinged water continue to fall. "I'm the great Harry Potters child, why am I such a disappointment."

My reflection isn't exactly a pleasant sight, black and blue spots, blotched with the redness of anger; and puffy, inflamed eyes mirroring every emotion I could possibly feel, the intense green no longer cheery. I was so focussed on the pain I was feeling, I almost missed the crimson o the walls.

Blood, was my first thought; the thick, almost jelly like liquid on the walls, the mirrors, every piece of available wall space was covered in scarlet red, bold lettering.

 _The one whose namesake great, shall not exceed adulthood, he shall perish, as those before him have, unless he obtain, the objects of ultimate power._

The strength of the words knocks me flat on my backside; no, not another prophecy, all of the great oracles were killed when He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named rose to power. This can't be, this person has to be insane; where did all the blood come from, what poor creature was killed for this intention, the prophecy was too much for my already emotionally drained mind..

Was it referring to me, who else could it be talking about, I'm doomed, that's the only thought passing through my mind until complete black covers my vision like a warm fuzzy blanket of complete unbeknownst. My life, had just begun.


	5. Luxury

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder, so the luxury should be a different touch to each hand. Some view luxury as the softness of a silk garment, or the bubbly, fine taste of sweet champagne.

To Neville Longbottom, luxury, was as simple as the intense green health of a new plant, or gently kissing Hannah Abbots petal soft lips. They boy reeked simplicity, in a good way; so when he was offered a 'Luxury' vacation to a warm muggle destination, he could barely contain a screech.

"Hannah," he shouted, voice deepened with age.

"What Neville?" The poor blonde girl was attempting to cook supper the muggle way, (she was failing) her voice was heavily laced with frustration.

Neville popped his head around the door frame, peaking into the kitchen, "We've won a ministry raffle."

Hannah, slightly ignoring her boyfriend, thrusts her gloved hands into the oven, revealing a vegetable dish lightly covered in charcoal, "Why can't I get this right," she mumbles, turning to look at the brown haired man, "What did we win Nev."

The mossy-eyed boy looks directly into Hannah's, "we're going to Mexico."

Hannah audibly gasped, her delicate hands flying upwards to cover her O shaped lips.

"You're kidding," the disbelief evident.

"Why would I," he retorts, walking back towards his chair, "the portkey leaves Friday."

 **Friday**

Luxury, thought Neville as he sipped at an unknown drink brought to him by a waiter, this is so far past luxury he didn't know what words to use to attempt to describe it. The plants grew tall and bright all year round; snow never to appear in November.

The lush weather paired with crisp, white, sand beaches and crystal, blue water were heaven. The plush mattresses and drink service all piled together to create the most luxurious paradise he could think of. But what truly made it an event, was spending it with a certain blonde girl he'd somehow come to love.


	6. From Slides to Stairs

Glisseo, From Slides To Stairs

"Ron your insufferable," Hermione shouts as if she's spitting fire, agitation clearly amounted in her voice.

"Bloody hell," Ron practically whines, "I did absolutely nothing wrong."

Hermione was seething, "Nothing, exactly, you did nothing."

Fighting on the Hogwarts stairs probably wasn't the best idea; anyone could be watching, and the stairs constantly changed directions, causing the angry couple to shout louder on occasion.

"What did you expect me to do Mione?" the red-head spoke with accompanied hand gestures, "The guy was nine times bigger than me."

Furiously walking down the stairs, Hermione howls, "You could have at least told him to back off, or just hold my hand, I'm your girlfriend, act like it."

The bushy haired women continued down the steps, skipping a few risers each time for extra affect. Ron was nearly tripping over his own feet trying to catch up to her, anxious to end their lovers spat.

Frustration ran dry, "Glisseo," Ron bellows.

The stairs contract, folding in on themselves to quickly create a smooth slope. Hermione tries to catch her feet, failing, and sliding down the surface on her ass, giggling hysterically by the time she reaches the bottom of the staircase.

"Ronald Weasley," he lands right next to her as she speaks.

He turns to her, looking deep into brown eyes, "Yes Mione?"

Instead of answering him, she grabs the nape of his neck, gentle enough, and places her lips on his own. To say the boy was startled would be an understatement; pleased, he smiles into the kiss, knowing he's won the argument.

"You're forgiven," Hermione whispers, pulling away from the brief, yet sweet, kiss.

Ron's hands fly upwards, into the air for extra dramatics, "took you long enough."

"Do not anger me again Ronald," she pokes her index finger lightly into his chest.

The night after was spent cuddled up on a worn out sofa in the common room, both sporting happy grins.


	7. I Like Pompous Assholes

Criminology, Task 2

The buzz of a muggle tattoo machine filled the room, fingers laced through each other, the occasional gentle squeeze for support. Harry had never thought he'd get a tattoo, nevertheless a needle poking and probing ink deeply into his skin. However, the moment Draco suggested it, he'd already grabbed the keys to his car.

Picking out the design was easy, laying on the table was simple, but showing Draco the results was nerve racking. Anxiously waiting for the edge of his mouth to quirk up in a grimace, or show any sign of disgust.

Instead, he gently traced the delicate lines, and pecked my ribcage lightly, and smile on his face.

"You like," I ask, voice quiet.

"Why wouldn't I," he counters, "I've officially marked you now."

The rest of the evening was spent in joyful cuddles, with laughter and giggles filling the silence.

Time Skip (Hogwarts, November)

"You've noticed Harry's tattoo right?" Dean whispered to Seamus, who happened to be stuffing his mouth with a ladle sized spoon full of mashed potatoes.

The Irish boy swallowed thickly before speaking, "Ya mate, it's a strange one; just a bunch of spots and lines."

"You have any idea what it means?" Dean asks, feeling the bench dip under a new weight.

"Are we talking about Harry's new tattoo?" Ron's prepubescent voice loudly interrupts.

The boys nod, heads moving in sync.

"It's bonkers isn't it, who on earth would permanently ink sixteen dots on their ribcage, bizarre isn't it?" The redheads grin widening with each word.

"It's got to have some kind of meaning behind it," The chocolate man suggests, breaking the silence.

"You lot are so daft," a mass of bushy, brown hair cuts in.

The boys faces contort into looks of confusion, "Do you know what the tattoo means?" Seamus challenges.

Hermione glares at the boy, "of course I know what it means, I'm not stupid, unlike you all," she murmurs the last bit under her breath.

All mentions of the mysterious tattoo resolve when Harry comes into the Great Hall for breakfast.

…

"Can you believe it," Harry whispers, looking up at Draco through dark eyelashes.

The blonde tucks back a piece of shaggy, black hair behind the boys ear, "believe what," a gentle kiss is pressed onto Harry's nose.

Harry huffs, "Everyones been talking about what my tattoo means, its bonkers, anyone taking astronomy should know."

Draco chuckles lightheartedly, "Who's cracked the code so far?"

"Only Hermione, but she could figure out what a speck of dust means if she truly put her mind to it."

Greys eyes brightened with heightened laughter, "Are you ever going to tell them?"

Harry places his hand on the bak of Draco's neck, pulling him into a soft kiss, "I'll let them figure it out."

…

The grand doors to the Great Hall bust open, Dean walking briskly through them, "I've done it."

"Done what," a heavily accented voice pipes.

"Figured out what Harry's tattoo means," cockiness prominent in his voice.

Ron pops his head into the conversation, "Spill it."

Dean quickly scribbles the image onto a napkin, "Its a constellation; hints the dots and lines," he starts, "but the really juicy piece of information is what constellation it is."

Hermione smirks to herself 'so they've got it', she thinks, now eavesdropping intently.

"Which one is it mate," Ron questions, clearly anxious and awaiting the answer.

Dean smiles smugly, "Draco."

Ron's features move in a way they shouldn't before he manages to splutter out, "why in merlins name would Harry tattoo Draco on himself."

"So you've got it haven't you," speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Draco!" Ron complains, "Draco! really? why?" His hatred for the other boy clearly evident.

"Cause we love each other," The blonde shows up out of thin air and pecks the side of Harry's head, causing the raven to smile and blush.

"So you're into blokes, and you never told me," Ron was hysterical, "Why ferret? and why did you get a tattoo?"

"Let's just say I like pompous assholes who like placing their claim."


	8. You Took My Tie You Dunderhead

BTS Challenge

Prompt (Object) School Tie

Word Count: 249

"Harry, why on earth is your tie green," Hermione asks, her voice laced with curiousity.

"Shit," The raven curses under his breath, "My tie is Green?"

I figured playing coy could at least buy me a few minutes of precious time to create some sort of elaborate lie.

"Yes Harry," Hermione deadpans, "Your tie is Slytherin green."

"I didn't know, um, I guess I picked this one up after a good duel," a shrug follows my words.

Shoveling a fork full scrambled eggs into my mouth, my eyes wander to the entrance of the Great Hall. A giggle manages to escape my lips, gaining myself a few stares. The one causing the chuckles is a rare dancing Draco, waving around a crimson and gold tie, attempting to get my attention.

Laughing, I excuse myself from the table and walking in the blondes direction. Before I could utter a word to the boy, my wrist is forcefully grasped and I'm dragged into a severely cluttered broom closet.

"You took my tie you dunderhead," Draco mumbles, pulling my knotted tie loose.

Grinning wickedly, "Maybe I took it on purpose," I tease.

Draco's nimble fingers knot my original tie back in place faster than I can blink; he smooths the fabric, taking an extra moment to run his boney appendages down my chest.

He quickly pecks my lips before turning me in the direction of the door, "Now go before anyone notices you were gone," A quick nip to my earlobe sends me to class.


	9. Who Knew Flustered Wasn't My Colour

BTS Challenge

Prompt (Character) Oliver Wood

Word Count: 380

I never thought I'd go starstruck at the mention of Oliver Wood, especially because I'm older than the boy. Nevertheless, the minute Ginny brought up the professional quidditch player I nearly shrieked like little girl on Christmas morning.

Although, the second he walked through the door, was when the real fangirling began. The blush that lit up my cheeks as I blatantly stared him up and down was fiery red. My attraction was obvious to anyone, including my parents, who simply chuckled and brushed off my incredulous reaction.

Standing up and brushing myself off, attempting to shake the hefty crimson colour painting my face, I firmly shake his outstretched hand.

"I'm Oliver," his Irish accent laid on thick, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"I'm, um," I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in, "I'm Charlie."

"Charlie," he says, as if testing out my name on his tongue, "Let me take you out to lunch tomorrow."

It wasn't a question, it was a fact, "Sure, um, sounds nice."

Who knew flustered wasn't my colour.

…

"Charlie," Mum shouts from the kitchen, "where are you going?"

"I'm off to meet Oliver at the Leaky."

Even without looking at mum I could tell a smile was growing on her face as she chopped carrots for stew. A short moment followed by a crack of apparition was all it took to transport me to my destination. Situating myself in the small, leather booth across from Oliver I smile.

"Hello Charlie."

"Hello Oliver."

The silence that followed was anything but awkward, it was surprisingly comfortable and familiar.

The brown-eyed boy took a sip of his drink, "Still working in Romania?"

"Yah, the dragons over there sure are a special breed, I don't think I'd have the heart to leave the creatures," I answer truthfully, more words spilling than meant.

"Looks like I'll be seeing more of you then,"a wicked smirk quirking up the sides of his lips.

"Why do you say that," I question, smiling a toothy grin.

"I just got transferred to the Romanian Quidditch team."

And that folks was the beginning of a beautiful relationship; who would've thought that four years later we'd be married with a few baby dragons flying round the house.


	10. Your Friend Has A Hero Complex

BTS Challenge

Prompt, Dialogue, "Theres a girl in my bed"

Word Count: 315

Once upon a time, in an apartment complex far far away, a sleepy blonde boy was awaking to a brand new day. Not a hair on his head managed to stray as he slept, dawning a perfect morning to a new day; that was until Draco noticed the female companion snoring noisily beside him.

"Merlin," Draco shoots upward, "There's a girl in my bed."

When the shock of the situation finally registered in the steely eyed boys brain, he couldn't help but shout, "Harry, why on merlin's bloody earth is there a woman in my bed."

"What?" Harry yelled to Draco as he ran up the narrow staircase, nearly missing a few steps, "Is your issue?"

Draco, now taking the wellbeing of the brunette girl beside him, made frantic hand manoeuvres attempting to ask about the current predicament he was in.

Harry chuckled lightly, "Draco," he deadpanned, "she's out cold, you can talk."

A few throaty coughs escaped Draco's mouth as he tried to gain his composure, "So why am I sleeping next to," his face contorting into a look of disgust, "a girl," he all but spat.

"You were both drunk, I had to put her somewhere," Harry reasons.

"And that had to be in our bed?"

"It's not like we have a spare room."

"Magic Harry, we're wizards remember, couldn't you have conjured up an air mattress."

Thought the shouts, you couldn't have heard a stir in the bed next to Draco.

"Can you please stop arguing, my headache is pounding and your not helping," the mysterious girl grumbles.

Draco's head snapped in her direction so fast, you'd think he was lighting, "Who are you and why were you asleep next to me," Draco harshly questioned.

She offered out her hand, "Priscella, pleasure to meet you, your friend has a hero complex and if that isn't enough explanation, I don't know what is."


	11. Letters To Edward

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Assignment 4

Women's History, Task 13- Write a Story Told Only Through a Series of Love Letters

Word Count: 600

Dear Teddy,

Today, I happened to admire you more today than any other, the turquoise colour you've chosen for your hair truly lights up the amber in your eyes. When they catch the light they dazzle like old topaz's. I've always wanted to gift you a gemstone, but I thought that'd you'd find it strange, you know, receiving precious rocks from a perfect stranger, who might not be a stranger at all.

With Much Love,

Stranger

Dear Stranger,

Is it odd that I'm not petrified of you; is it odd that your letters make my heart beat faster and the butterflies in my stomach flutter. Flattery is never kind to me, I light up like a Christmas tree. I wish to know your identity though, I want to know which house your in, or your grades, do you play quidditch? So many questions I'd like to ask you.

For Now,

Teddy

Dear Teddy,

I'm glad you've taken an interest in me, but you're going to have to work harder than that to gain some sort of information. I'm in Gryffindor, but that's the only hint you'll get for now. I have to say, the crimson red that blushes on your cheeks truly suits you; I wonder what you'd look like in my jumper. Hopefully it'd swallow you, just so we could cuddle together by the fire in your common room. Does your werewolf side contribute to how you enjoy cuddling? Do you like fingers tangled in your hair? Sometimes my mind drifts to how you would smell, the scent of you shampoo, how strong you cologne is? You intrigue me Teddy Lupin, and I love it.

I Couldn't Love You More,

Stranger

Dear Stranger,

Red isn't exactly my colour, my skin is much to alabaster to look decent in the bright Gryffindor shade. My shampoo is apple scented, and I don't wear cologne, much to masculine, I prefer a vanilla essence instead. You intrigue me too, stranger, I'm somewhat attracted to the whole mysterious, sensitive, shy boy; never thought that'd be my type. How I long to know your name, much less how you actually look.

With Curiosity,

Edward Lupin

Dear Teddy,

Please don't use your full name, it just doesn't suit you at all. I can't say I've ever me and Edward with Blue hair, it simple won't do. You have no clue how much joy I feel from receiving one of your letters. The others in the common room think I'm psychotic with the gigantic grin that takes over my face when I receive your letters. I'm in love you Teddy Lupin and I'm not afraid to say so.

I Love You Deeply,

Stranger

Dear Stranger,

Believe it or not, you're not exactly a stranger anymore; I could take an educate guess as to who you are, no that I'd want to. I like the mystery, though I'm sick of loving you through words alone. I want to see you, touch you, hold you, I want all of you. I want to smell your cologne and feel the callouses left by quidditch on your fingertips, tell me who you are, I beg of you.

I'm in Love with You Too,

Your Teddy

Dear Teddy,

I said in the beginning, that I'm a perfect stranger who may not even be a stranger at all. You know my parents, my younger siblings, my grandmother, you've also managed to gain their approval. Tedds you're the only one who doesn't know who I am at this point, but If you truly love me, I'm willing.

The One and Only,

James S Potter


	12. I'm Overjoyed

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Astronomy Task 6: Write set on a snowy winter day/night

Word Counts: 326

"You know the snow matches your hair perfectly," Harry muttered next to the blonde's ear.

Draco chuckled softly, his laugh blending harmoniously with the music buzzing quietly from the record player in the corner. The vibrations reverberating throughout the small room.

"Your ridiculous," Draco turns his head, his eyes shifting upwards to lock with Harry's.

My turn to laugh, "Ridiculous about you."

Winter in England just wasn't winter enough for the Blonde; he packed up his belongings and boyfriend, and purchased a house in the centre of Canada. The weather was an adjustment; Harry simply was not used to such harsh temperatures. The boy often wondered how easily Draco blended into the northern community.

Their residence was nothing more of a tiny shack in the heart of the woods. The boys had opposing opinions; at first Harry found the building appalling. Much to small and Dark to ever become something of a home to the boy who grew up sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs. Though, eventually, Harry began to love the fire lit space as much as Draco did.

The cabin had become their escape from the realities of the wizarding world. Cuddling was by far the best part of cold weather. Draco would curl into Harry's chest, their limbs tangling together. They would simply sit and watch the warm glow of the fire cascade over the room and the snow gently falling through the window; whispering sweet nothings into each others ears, laughing and giggling at the others attempt at flirting.

"Aren't you glad we decided to buy this place," Draco murmurs, voice slurring with sleep. Cold nights had always made the boy groggy.

Harry grins lightly, "We, you grabbed my hand and apparated me down here without a word of explanation."

"Aren't you glad I did," Draco smirked, knowing how grateful Harry truly was.

"Draco, I'm overjoyed."

The words were laced with sarcasm, but Draco knew that deep down, Harry meant them.


	13. I Called

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Performing Arts, Task 3

Word Count: 543

Hugo's P.O.V.

"Hugo, oh Hugo," my mother pulled me tightly into her chest, petting my hair, "I'm so sorry."

I laugh a little, "It's alright Mom, everyone makes mistake."

Except, this wasn't the first they'd forgotten me in Diagon Alley, to be frank it was the fifth or so; I was beginning to think that I'd need to carry floo powder on me at all times. If I was being honest, its a miracle she even remembers where she left me.

I was that child, the one who the mother forgets at the mall, or the one your father prefers not to play catch with. Rose was everything to mum and dad, good grades, quidditch player, and not a mousy redhead with his nose constantly in a book.

Mum pulls away from her bone-crushing hug, "Hugo I'm so sorry, it just sort of slipped my mind."

"It's ok mum,"

/Flashback/

Sitting in Diagon alley was not the most interesting event on the planet, at least not to a wizard.

A voice somehow manages to break my trance, "What are you doing out here kiddo?"

The low voice startles me, shock rips through my body, "Oh hey Ted, how are you?"

"I'm great, but you didn't answer my question," he cocks his head, smirk tilting one corner of his mouth in a playful manner.

"Oh that," I rub the back of my neck sheepishly, looking down at my shoes "mum forgot me again, no big deal."

Teddy sighs, his amber eyes falling slightly, "Again?"

"Ya, but it's…." I trail slightly, getting cut of by Teddy.

"No Big deal, I know."

The tall boy pulled out a chair, running his nimble fingers through his bright hair.

"It's ok you know, I'm sure Rosie gets forgotten sometimes," his voice reassuring.

I scoff, extra loud for effect, "a strand of rose's hair could never ever be forgotten, let alone the girl herself."

"Your mum and dad care, don't worry."

"Do they though?"

"What?" He questions, his expression contorting into something unreadable.

I huff and sigh, slinking deeper into my chair, "Do they really care about me, do they?"

Teddy looks thoughtful for a moment, staring at me, looking me over, assessing the situation, "What makes you feel this way?"

Sarcastic chuckles escape my throat, "I'm the forgotten child, they don't even hang my report card on the fridge anymore," I trail off, looking at my shoes, "I'd be shocked to know that they even read it."

"Hugo, that's not true," Teddy's sympathy turned his amber eyes glossy.

"Yes it is," my anger boiling like a tea kettle, "They don't care about my grades or if I'm even at home or not," I spat my words at hm like fire on my tongue, "they don't love me, much less appreciate me enough to know where I am at seven in the evening."

By the end of my speech tears were streaming down my face, leaving glossy tracks in there absence. Suddenly, Teddy jumps from his seat, wrapping firm arms tightly around my body.

"They'll be here in a few," he mutters into my ear.

I sob, "How do you know?"

"I called."


	14. No Sex Rule

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Ghost Hunting, Task 3: Write about the relationship between a doctor and patient

Word Count: 309

"Harry you can't be injured again," Hermione shouts, loud enough to hurt my ears.

"But I can Mione, It was an accident," I shrug my shoulders on the word accident.

You could almost see her fuming, "an accident? Are you mental, you don't break a hip by accident Harry," she audibly breaths, "I'm on my way to St. Mungo's you pyscho."

I chuckle lightheartedly, "Take all the time in the world Mione, the hips still broken."

I hung up the phone with a smile, leaning back into the hospital bed.

"Mr. Potter," Hannah smiles, "Pleasure to see you again."

"Hannah, I've told you billion times it's Harry, Gosh I was over for dinner yesterday," I shift to get more comfortable, "How are Neville and the kids?"

"They're doing wonderful," she adjusts my pillow, "The doctor will be in in just a moment."

"Thanks a bunch Hannah," I call out the door as she walks away.

The silence in the hospital is almost as awful as the sterile scent, I don't think a cell could last a few seconds in the environment.

"Ah, Mr. Potter," a deep voice breaks the silence, "Now why would I be assigned to your case?"

Liquid mercury eyes stare at me, penetrating my soul, "I broke a hip," I say nonchalantly.

"At twenty seven, tsk tsk Mr. Potter." Draco's voice was dripping sarcasm; his playful banter endearing.

"Sorry Doctor," my tone was just as teasing.

"On a serious note," he smiles down at the paper resting upon the clipboard in his hand, "There isn't much we can do, set it and wrap it. You won't be moving much in the next few days, I'll alert Kreacher for you and most of all, no sex."

"Draco," I mock, "you're going to be the only one sad about the no sex rule," a wink following the phrase.


	15. Dear Santa

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Muggle Music Task 8: Write about Someone Writing Santa a Letter

Word Count: 387

Dear Santa,

I've never really written a letter before, much less asking for presents. Mainly because Uncle Vernon refuses to waste stamps on any sort of post I have to send anyways. I've never gotten a gift before, at least not a proper one; I don't really know what to even ask for. Dudley says that you have elves make toys for children; any toy they could possibly wish for. But Santa Claus, I'm asking if I have to wish for toys.

Could I wish for something else, something much better than plastic, at least in my opinion. I think my first letter to you should be worth a ton more than a plastic toy; I had to carefully take a stamp and cut the paper so Uncle Vernon wouldn't notice, and then place it on parchment so it wouldn't lose its stick. This may be the only letter you receive from me, so I'd like to wish for love.

More specifically I wish for someone to love me, to kiss my booboo's when I scrape my knee on the pavement, and for someone to pull me tightly into their arms and hug me when I cry. I want someone to fuss over me like Aunt Petunia does Dudley when I'm sick. I want someone to spoon feed me steaming chicken soup and stay home from work, I want to sleep on an actual bed anywhere but a broom cupboard.

Santa, I want a Mommy, and a Daddy who will love me and play catch with me and make me brownies when I pass a spelling test. But Santa Claus, most of all, I want to know why I have to wish for parents when Dudley gets them without gratitude.

With Hope,

Harry Potter

P.S. I will settle for a plush toy to cuddle at night as I dream, I like Dragons.

Seven-year-old Harry snuck out early that morning to slip his letter into the post box, hope dancing in his eyes. The same hope intensified when Harry woke up before Dudley Christmas morning, expecting to find a set of loving adults prepared to whisk him away from his broom closet. He didn't get parents, but when he sulked back to his cupboard, he found a small, blue, plush dragon lying next to his pillow.


	16. Truth or Dare

Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Astronomy, Task 4: Write About a Virgin

Word Count: 366

A a lonely mop of fiery auburn hair wandered around the burrow, the music on the first floor pounding away at Hugo's head. The party downstairs was seriously beginning to annoy the boy; mainly because he was just much to shy to join his family and their friends.

Hugo heard a small click in the door mechanism, a familiar pair of steal eyes appear in the doorway, "What are you doing in here?" His deep voice sending shivers down Hugo's spine.

Brown eyes shot up to the door, thick, dark eyelashes framing chocolate iris', "Hey… *cough* Hey Scorp," the boy, visibly nervous.

A smirk creeps its way onto the blondes face, "Hey Hugo, what cha doing up here?"

"It's um,"' a blush sneaks its way onto my cheekbones, "its too populated downstairs."

Steal eyes soften, "Hugo, I swear to Merlin, your perpetually shy," a soft smile quirking up the corners of his mouth.

Hugo's shoulders shrug gently, brown eyes falling to his lap where his wrings his hands gently, his chin tilting almost embarrassed of himself.

Scorpius reaches out to grab the redheads freckled chin, "Hey, come on," pulling the boy off the bed and hastily down the stairs, "the teens are going to play a small game of truth or dare, you in?"

Hugo nods carefully, almost regretful of his decision. The trip to the crowded room filled mostly with other red haired children included many shouts and whistles. The game went by quickly, Hugo remained mostly silent, occasionally breaking to giggle softly at confessions and stupid dares his cousins had to complete.

"Hugo," a sly smirk works its way onto Freddie's face, "Truth or dare," each word carefully enunciated.

Shock ripples through the boy, "I um *cough* truth I guess," a nervous feeling of dread bruise itself in the pit of Hugo's stomach.

"Are you a virgin?"

All eyes were on Hugo, and he was obviously nervous, "yes," he replies, attempting to sound confident, failing.

"No way," and a multitude of other gasps of shock could be heard throughout the room.

A large pair of hands found their way onto Hugo's waist, a familiar hot breath at his ear, "Let's go fix that Hugo."


	17. Simply Royalty

Hogwarts School ofWitchcraft and Wizardry

Folklore Task 5: Write About Royalty

Word Count: 307

Being prince was and has never been a good thing. The lonely feeling that hangs over your brain everyday isn't pleasant, knowing that everyone looks up to you and knowing that you must think everyone less of you, although you don't really think that way, you act of it because its what's expected of you.

Your father only speaks to you when you've done wrong and your mother never coddled you or hugged you or kissed your bruises and scrapes because she only cared about status and appearance. You're only permitted to speak to anyone with the same title, which gives you a lack of friendships which leads- once again- to loneliness.

I've never really been talkative anyways but it would have at least been nice to have the option; option when your royalty consists if what medallion to wear tonight or what colour should the place setting be, nothing truly important until coronation.

Speaking of coronation, mine was tonight. Preparation had been worrying my mother for weeks now; red silk here and gold leaf there, driving me completely honestly.

Dressed in my vest and waistcoat adorned with gold, mentally preparing for my new position in the aristocracy. Mother soon comes into view, running nimble fingers over my collar, adjusting it to lay gently over my clavicle.

"You're going to do just fine out there," one of her rare smiles shined up in my direction.

Running a hand through thick icy hair, nerves racking through my veins, "I can do this," I mumble to myself quietly.

The reflection in the tarnished mirror is something drastically different than what I had wanted my entire life; I'd always wanted freedom, friendship, and love, but I am now stuck. Stuck where I always was and can never escape, simply because I'm Draco, Future King of Wales, simply because I'm royalty.


	18. Mine

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Ancient Studies Task 3: Write about a sculpture/work of art or someone creating one of them

Word Count: 433

Hugo's P.O.V.

"Every artist has his muse Hugo," the blonde drawled out, every syllable igniting a heat onto my cheeks.

His boney fingers curled into soft fists; his knuckles gently, tenderly, running over my cheek bone, tilting my head to the left. The pads of his fingers run across my arms, goosebumps left behind in their trail; he positions my arms behind my head, auburn curls splayed across my wrist, the copper standing out against my pale skin.

It was a comfortable position- thank merlin- because I was scheduled to be lying here for hours. I was his model, the object of his latest piece, and of his affection. His fingers drift onto my thighs suggestively, standing and strutting towards his easel.

My eyes wander for the first hour, but eventually waft in his direction, steel grey eyes focussed, glancing between me and the half painted canvas. Platinum strands fall onto his forehead, he ignores them with grace. It was mesmerizing to watch an artist work, the easy flick of brush strokes captivating my gaze.

He could tell I was watching, the quirk at the right corner of his mouthed proved my suspicions, arrogant bastard.

"Don't stop staring," his abrupt words shock me, almost knock me out of his carefully planned pose.

A shy grin paves its way onto my lips, "why?" the words even tasted cheeky.

His lighthearted chuckle warmed my insides, awaking butterflies. The stars in his eyes brightened as he looked my way, boring his way into my brain with a glance, attempting to read my thoughts.

"Your eyes look more lively when your staring at me," he smiles, as if only to himself, "it would bring me great joy to capture that gleam."

Blood instantly rushes to my cheeks, turning them vibrant red. My mouth forms an O, "smooth talker," I mumble to myself.

More endless hours of sitting, waiting, and staring eventually turned to a deep sleep. A small kiss to my lips, and a gentle shake to the shoulders awakens me from my slumber. Soft hands guide me towards the drying linen.

I gasp as my eyes finally rest on my own mirror image, "Oh Scorpius, this is…. Wonderful."

His arms wind around my waist, I nuzzle further into his warm chest, embracing the heat rolling in waves off of his body.

"You," Fingers under my chin, eyes lock, holding each others gaze, "are a piece of art that desperately needs to be captured, and shown to the world," he trails off, a gentle peck on my bare shoulder, "mine to show off to the world."


	19. Isn't the Boss Supposed to Seduce

Hogwarts School Witchcraft and Wizardry

Meet Cute March, Prompt Day 2

Word Count: 549

The phone on my desk suddenly begins blaring its earsplitting ringtone, shocking me.

"Hello sir," I mumble out as fast as I can.

His commanding voice vibrates through the telephone, "Into my office, now."

His calm tone has a terrible effect on my body, shivers running through my vertebrate and a blush igniting on my cheeks.

"Be right in sir."

I hurriedly run along the halls to his office; the mahogany sorry greeting me with the welcoming screech of oiled hinges. I gently rap my knuckles on the dark wood, a small sound reverberating through the corridor.

"Come in," his dominating voice controlling my feet faster than my brain can.

My eyes cast down to my feet, glueing themselves to the floor, "You needed me sir?"

"Hugo," his gaze burning deep holes in my body, "i can't deal with my friends alone…." He trails off.

My eyes glance around frantically, avoiding his staring, "I'm a little lost sir," shaking my head in confusion.

"Look," my boss talks with his hands, the wild gestures exaggerating his words, "I'm the only single one in the group and I refuse to be a seventh an eleventh wheel," his frustration slowly leaking out through his speech, "I need you to be my fiancé."

Shock waves shot through me like a stream of bullets, one quickly after another, each sending new feelings to my brain.

"Excuse me Sir," my mouth open and loses like a fish, "did you say fiancé," my incredulously behaviour more present than it should in front of Mr. Malfoy.

His eyes tear me to shreds, breaking down every wall I've ever put up. Up and down, taking in every bit of me, storing it away for later. I wasn't much, small, pale, and covered head to toe in freckles. Auburn curls rest atop my head leaving amber eyes to meet his gaze.

"I, uh, um," I clear my throat in attempt to stop mumbling, "I'll do it."

…

A few days later I'm suddenly entering an Audi with my boss, preparing to meet his friend group as his 'Fiancé' The trip was short, a simple weekend at his desolate cabin in the woods, nothing too special.

"Sir, um, not to be rude, but am I getting paid this weekend?"

"Hugo," his eyes momentarily off the road to glance at me, "call me Draco."

His name was unique, and rolled off my tongue in the strangest ways.

"Draco, D-R-A-C-O," saying it aloud made him chuckle softly.

"Your getting paid double this weekend," his stormy eyes a ball of bright emotions, focussing on the path ahead.

"Sir," I stop, trying to mentally talk myself out of my next confession, "what if I don't want to be paid… for this weekend."

His face contorts, confusion evident, "why wouldn't you want a double wage," he sighs, "do you want more?"

"No no no," I wave my hands in surrender, "I just…."

I pause and look out the window, trying to form proper sentences in my head.

"Will you go out with me this weekend Mr. Malfoy."

He laughs, large bellowing laughter that kick starts my heart. Most of my courage was spent asking the question, leaving little to prepare for the incoming rejection.

"Isn't the boss supposed to seduce the assistant?"


	20. NoteBook Worthy

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Elemental Magic Task 1: Write About Someone Getting Caught in the Rain

Meet-Cute-March Day 3

Word Count: 595

Smokey Hollow rained- rained a lot- the small pitter patter of drops smacking into the glass lulled me to sleep most nights. That was until big-shot artist Oliver Wood strolled into town; now all I do is think about him. How odd he fits himself into town, standing out like a rose in a lily garden.

I memorized his arrival, arrogance dripping off of him like honey, tight black jeans and a leather jacket, all eyes cast in his direction. To say he drew attention to himself would be an understatement. He didn't know small town protocol, he demanded, never asked; manners nonexistent.

"He'll learn eventually," mom said softly, meanwhile wiping down a table, "fetch their order will ya Georgie."

The diners always been quite quiet, most orders are just the regulars, with the addition of random tourists visiting Harry's bed&breakfast. The small jingle of the bell above the door caught informed my ears, my eyes up and staring, shocked, at the towns newest addition.

His long strides carry him to a booth in the corner, he's alone. Gathering myself, I head into that direction as well, courage on maximum.

"Can I get you something to drink," barely more than a whisper.

Smirk on his lips, he looks up at me, preparing for a demand, his gaze softens, and then cockiness follows, "I'll take one tall glass of you."

I couldn't help but laugh, laugh at his words, and his confidence, "I'm sorry," deep breath in to calm myself from hysterics, "but we don't serve that here."

A genuine smile this time, "I guess coffee will have to do, and a date this Saturday, 7 o'clock."

I debated rejecting him, but his hazel eyes made it hard to deny his offer, "Be right up."

…

Dinner was at his place; it was quaint and kind, homey. The fact that he knew how to cook was the most surprising event of the evening. The conversation was easy, and words flowed uncontrollably out of my mouth.

"So," a sip of the expensive tasting wine, "Why Smokey Hollow?"

He sighed, "I drove through on tour once, promised myself I'd come back one day, and find who I was without fame," he glances toward the window, rain falling once again, "its deep and weird but thats the truth."

I tangle my fingers with his own, callused from years of guitar strings, "How's your search going," I ask, desperate for an answer.

"Pretty good so far," I shyly glance upwards, meeting his gaze.

He clears his throat and stands, "Come on, lets take you home."

Once situated in the vehicle, questions circle my brain, "Can we take a detour," I mumble, almost to myself, "just a small one."

Directing him to my favourite spot in the village, a small gazebo crowned by a halo of trees in a clearing. It was beautiful no matter what season; it my favourite spot, away from everyone.

Half way there a gurgle sounds from the engine, the car pulling to a slow. A smack on the steering wheel drags me out of my trance, "Shit, fuck," turning to me, "I'm so sorry, we're out of gas."

The rain pelting against the window, soft vibrations hit my skin as I turn to open the passenger door, "Come on Hollywood, we're gonna make a movie moment."

When I reach his side of the car, I interlock our fingers, dragging him into the middle of the desolate street. I gently push his wet locks backwards and pull his lips onto my own, It was notebook worthy.


	21. I've Always Loved You

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Meet-Cute March, Day 5

Word Count: 671

"JJ, you're going to get the role, don't worry," but its wasn't him who was worried, it was me.

James had been going to auditions on end, searching for the perfect character to portray. Much to my luck, he hadn't found it yet, though the most recent audition- much to my dismay- was looking optimistic.

Of course I was going to be so proud of him, but that would mean our romance would have to be short lived, Hollywood awaits him. The loud ding notifying the user that they have a message sounds. James eyes twitch as the read the text on the screen.

"I got the part," barely a whisper, "I got the part," a little louder, shock not yet fleeing his system.

My frail arms wrap around his torso, my head nuzzling into the warm of his muscular chest, "I'm so proud of you."

My eyes had a mind of their own, silent tears trailing onto my cheeks and into the material of his shirt. I knew this was the end, and I hated to admit that he may never come back. Mother would be joyous at the new of Regulas' broke, good-for-nothing boyfriend skipping town. Though the only thing skipping, is the occasional beat of my heart when his name is brought up in conversation of the next years.

~8 Years Later~

"Have you heard who's back in town?" A small blonde whispered to her brown-eyed friend.

"Yeah," loud enough to be clear at my table, "James Potter right?"

Regulas' brim filled coffee mug nearly smashed onto the floor, thank merlin he caught himself. The shock waves rippling through his body were strong enough; he didn't need a mess to clean on top of the extreme surprise rushing through his veins.

James was back in town, why?

Rushing back to his office was a tough task, avoiding the tabloids was one thing, but having to ignore the constant whispers of gossiping coworkers was another. He was back, I couldn't believe what my ears were picking up.

Before I could compose my self, a familiar mop of chocolate hair obstructs my view. What was he doing here? My door is made of glass, it was just occurring to me that he could easily seek me out. I hid, my back tight against the wall, sucking in my stomach, hoping my ribs shift into my torso.

"Regulas Black's office," a familiar soothing voice sounds, clearly reading the label on the door.

I let out my breath, nerves slowly overtaking my circulatory system. I glance upwards, my gaze meeting his own. The brown eyes I'd loved at one time staring into my heart, he instantly knew that loved wasn't truly past tense.

"I'm back Reggy," His fingers intertwining with my own, pulling my hand towards his lips, gently pressing them between my knuckles, "I always promised you I'd come back."

Deep breath invading my lungs, burning on the way down.

"Let me take you out tomorrow Reggy," his eyes wide and begging, "Please."

I nod, not trusting the words bound to come out of my throat. I wanted to yell for him to love me, right here right now. I wanted to shout at him to hold me and to stroke my hair behind my ears and tell me I looked adorable in my glasses. I needed him.

…

He took me to the park, our park, he park we would go to to bath in the sun, and each other. The nostalgia magnifying my eagerly returning feelings.

JJ turns in my direction, "I've never stopped loving you, you know that right?"

I nod, attempting to form a decent reply.

Before I could get a word out he continues, "Through every movie, every role or part, i always thought of you, and how much I couldn't wait to have enough to come home to you," he pulls me into him, arms around me as silent tears streak down my cheeks, "and now I'm home.

"Love you too," is mumbled.


	22. Only Them

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Travel & Tourism Task 2: Write about a beautiful moment between two people

March Meet Cute Day 8  
Word Count: 624

Astoria had always had a crush on the Draco Malfoy, from the earliest age of five when her father attended the Malfoy Christmas party. Throughout her school years she kept to herself, so unlike Daphne some wouldn't even know they were related, much less that Astoria Greengrass existed. When she fell pregnant with some drunken mistakes baby, she knew she'd have to do whatever it takes to raise her child safely.

Meanwhile Draco had joined the military, choosing to spend his days protecting the country. Astoria was the last thing on his mind, much less the idea of marrying her. She was just a family friend, nothing more than an acquaintance.

When the blonde parents suggested he marry her, he was shell-shocked. The ceremony was quick and private, nothing particularly special to provoke interest among anyone else. Astoria was delighted to know that her parents had taken her childhood crush into account when coming up with her marriage plans.

The pregnancy was obviously a surprise to the man, although he knew he wouldn't be around enough to ever become a father figure for the child. At least, thats what he thought until he was shot during a small raid while he was overseas.

Now he was home bandaged and laying on his bed, Astoria nowhere in sight. She was far along now, seven or so months, not that he bothered to ask. Not that he bothered the girl in general, their marriage was for convenience not because she actually enjoyed his company.

But what Steel eyed man didn't know was that Astoria had held his hand the entire Tim he was unconscious in the hospital. Silent tears falling and leaving trails on her puffy cheeks. Praying that he was going to be alright. Now she was avoiding him, avoiding running into his arms and crying joyous tears knowing that he's ok, awake and in her home.

Meeting him at some point was inevitable, but Astoria was going to avoid it for as long as she could. However, the ebony haired girls gut was telling her that today was not the avoiding type of day; baby kicked along in agreement. She tilted herself upwards, hair splaying back across her shoulders, tip toeing across the family room in attempt to sneakily make her way to the kitchen.

"Astoria, Ould you come in here please," a deep voice suddenly sounds.

"Fuck," she mumbles under her breath, "you can hear me?" His sharp features finally coming into view.

"I was a navy seal, im not deaf."

Astoria's face falls, he knew of her attempts at ignorance. She felt awful, trying to ignore her husband in his time of injury.

"I'm sorry."

He waves his hands as if to say its not a problem, "Don't be, but I have to ask, we're married now, so what are we going to do," he pauses to catch his breath, "I mean your pregnant."

"Draco," it was her time to confess, and she wasn't feeling the courage yet, and liquid courage wasn't an option, "I've had a crush on you since childhood…" he takes hold of her hand with his own, his pianist fingers dwarfing Astoria's petite hand, "I love you and I want to give this a chance," She was hysteric now, rambling at a pace impossible to understand.

"I mean you don't have to be his father, you don't even have to be in the same wing as him but I just want you," desperation clear in her voice.

Draco kisses her forehead lightly, creating a picture perfect moment; the chemistry was radiating off of them in white hot waves, it felt as if it was only them in that moment, "I'd love to try it," he replies softly.


	23. Ten Years

Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Performing Arts Task 2: Write about making something more presentable

Word Count: 409

"DRACO!" I yell through the house, hoping to get my husband's attention.

"Yes?" His breathing is laboured, and it seems that he ran through the house just to poke his head through the door frame to take a peek at my outfit for the night ahead.

His chest rises and falls as he sighs deeply, "Although you look hot, you yelled at me from across the house to see this?" he gestured to my tux-clad body. "What on this bloody earth did I need to rush in here for?"

"Draco the tux isn't important…. This is our Hogwarts class's ten year graduation, and nobody from school knows we're married," my eyes cast towards the ground, uncertain of his impending reaction.

I could hear his breath from in front of me, this was a touchy subject for us, "Harry, whose fault is that?"

Mine, it was very much so my fault. I was too nervous about the headlines, and the gasps that would overtake the wizarding world at reading "Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, Marries Ex Death Eater and School Bully, Draco Malfoy".

I am by no means ashamed of our relationship, I love him more than I have ever loved anybody before, but there a certain things that are meant just for me; our marriage being one of them. After graduation I moved into the muggle world, Draco and I ran into each other getting coffee one day and connected in a whole new way.

A way I didn't want to share, but now, its ten years since graduation and we have to go back. My nerves were vibrating, Draco could tell.

His hands rest on my shoulders, brushing small bits of lint off of the crisp blazer, "Relax, I know your scared," he huffs in a shallow breath, "To be frank, I am too. But I know that if we're together everything is going to be ok," his hand travels toward my cheek, caressing it gently, "You hear me?"

I nod, ruffling my already unruly, midnight hair. Draco's nimble fingers migrate down my arms and across my chest, flattening the fabric and sending shivers down my spine. Before my body has time to fully adjust to his touch, his hands dive into the dark locks atop my head, combing through them thoroughly, somewhat arranging them into a decently organized manner.

"There," He steps back to admire his work, "Now you look like your married to a pureblood."


	24. Small

As a child Harry had been of average height, not too tall, and far from short. However, at age fifteen, when all of the other boys were growing like weeds, he remained the same, 5' 6". His height never bothered him when he had to crane his neck in order to talk to any of the Weasley's, including Ginny; and it never bothered him when he was saving the Wizarding World. He was the chosen one after all, what's his height to matter.

He had never thought his height was a good thing until he began dating Draco Malfoy. Hugs became his new favourite activity, and cuddling was all he ever wanted to do. The feeling of being completed enveloped by defined arms, and an indescribable wave of heat billowing off of the blonde's body.

Draco was tall, and tall may be an understatement or an insult to the pureblood's height, long limbs, and sinewy muscle; Draco was lean, with an angular face that made anyone melt. Harry had known he'd loved Draco for a long time, he just never brought his feelings to the surface until after the war.

He had known his friends would have mixed feelings if he brought his attraction towards the the blonde to light. Though, surprisingly, they were quite supportive of his pursuit.

He was unsure of what Draco thought of his small stature. Of course the blond would randomly hug him from behind just so he could rest his chin on top of Harry's mop of raven hair. But he would also rest his elbows on the smaller boys shoulders and somewhat affectionately ruffle his hair.

The two boys would grow old together and Harry would never know. His height did change little bit as he got older though, he shrunk.


	25. Stalk My Way To Creepy

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Game Development Take 7: Write a Gang au

Word Count: 503

Harry's P.O.V

Mugshot analyzing was a fairly common part of my day, but nothing compared to the crooked smirk and platinum hair of a reoccurring case. Draco Malfoy, or the dragon, was a well known killer. Heir to one of the largest gangs in the country, he was a favourite of mine to arrest. Well attempt to arrest, the man was elusive and extremely careful about 'cleaning up' his messes- not that they were ever actually clean.

Draco just so happened to be the reason I joined the force.

…

A night of end-of-school- drinking was always a favourite activity; tonight Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean and I all met at three broomsticks (don't ask me how they came up with the name for the place). The walk home included some minor stumbling but became increasingly alarming as the darkness began to blanket the street.

My flat was not in the safest of neighbourhoods and it wasn't a huge shock that someone in my building belonged to a gang. However, the gang member himself proved shocking. Sharp features, striking blonde hair, and one of the most devious and beautiful smiles I'd ever laid eyes on.

This man (more like boy) had malicious intent, but I'd never seen anything so stunning. When the body (dripping in in the bright, red, copper scented liquid) finally fell limp, warm, swirling grey iris' met mine. Even in my half-drunken I knew that I'd never experienced eye contact that intense, that, meaningful.

I was obsessed, the next morning I basically stalked my way to creepy. I had to see him again, I had to get my hands on his pearly flesh, and my impulsive brain decided that becoming an officer and following his case would do the trick; oh boy I had no clue what I was getting into.

…

Rumours of another killing in my area were circling. Blood sprints through my veins, and my heart thrums against my ribcage at an impossible speed, tonight was the night. I got to the pinned location ages before Malfoy did.

When he finally arrived he was alone; he didn't even have a victim with him. The minute he spotted my ford, nerves racked through my spinal cord. The blonde had his eyes set in my car, he began to strut powerfully towards me.  
I was lost, and he knew it. His walk, the slight sway of hips and his chin held high was distracting. Draco had me in a daze, before I knew what I was doing he was knocking on my window. In a mix of petrified and intrigued I hesitantly my shaking hand to roll down the window.

Draco rests lithe limbs on the door, his nose nearly inches from mine. His stormy eyes search me up and down, a lump caught in my throat, a small, shallow gasp escaping closed lips. Smokey eyes eventually stare into my own, he leans closer, his warm breath ghosting against my flushed skin.

With soft whisper he mutters, voice deep, "Join us."

Goodbye Police Force


	26. Mr Lupin Makes Me feel Old

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Wandlore task 4: write a story set riddle era or earlier

The Houses Competition

(Slytherin, Transfiguartion Stand-In, 5, Standard)

(Speech) "How is possible that someone as intelligent as you can be so unfathomably dense?"

Warning Teacher/student relationship

Word Count: 1067

Sirius's P.O.V.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me, Mother!" The news she had just delivered still raung through my ears.

The small boy in the corner began fidgeting more prominently. It was obvious that he was growing increasingly uncomfortable.

"Sirius, he is standing right there," Mother scolded. "Have any of the manners I taught you penetrated that thick skull of yours?"

My eyes dramatically roll of their own accord. I'd always been one to defy the family, especially on the notion of my education. I'd never been good at my studies, or gotten along with any of the tutors they'd charged me with, and the point of a graduated education was baffling to me.

Mother sighed. She knew she'd lost, and she laid her hands back down onto her thighs in defeat. "Mr. Lupin, you're excused." She paused and trained her eyes directly on me. "And Sirius, for the love of God, show the boy to his suite."

As I stood waiting for Mother to make her way down the corridor, I was finally able to snatch a good look at my new tutor. Soft brown hair curled around his forehead in small tendrils. He was tall, at least six inches taller than me, with cheeks that could be described as almost chubby. The tutor was obviously young, and the nerves and slight hints of excitement that danced the waltz in his eyes were what truly made his youth prevaelent; he was definitely younger than twenty.

Piecing my composure back together, I began to follow Mother's footsteps into the corridor. Cheekily, a sly smile gracing my lips, I turned and called out, "You coming with us, Mr. Lupin?"

The flustered boy gathered his belongings and followed me through the maze of hallways, his eyes cast low on the ground.

…

The next morning was kind of a blur. I woke up to the blinding rays of sunlight streaming through the curtains. Sprawled out on the sheets, I was dreading the classes ahead of me.

"Good Morning Kreacher," I said while padding down the steps softly.

Sitting quietly in the centre of my dining table, nose in a book, was Mr. Lupin. He looked much more comfortable than yesterday, as if he'd settled in nicely. I hadn't noticed the soft caramel colour of his eyes during my brief inspection; , and his turquoise waistcoat enhanced the blue lines veining through his irises.

"Good morning, Mr. Lupin."

He gasped softly, his lips parting slightly, almost tantalizingly; he'd been, was evidently, unaware of my presence in the dining room.

He placed his book beside his plate. "Oh Sirius, pleaseif you could call me Remus, I cannot be much older than you. I feel old being called Mr. Lupin, it sounds like you are talking about my father." A hint of a smile appeared near the end of his sentence.

This was the first time I'd heard him speak; his voice matcheds his appearance perfectly—soft and delicate. He broke my daze. "We can meet in the library in an hour's time and start with English." He began to ramble. "I find it the most enjoyable with the right content." He blushed, realizing he'd spoken more in the past minute than in the entirety of his stay., "Does an hour sound alright?"

I thought I could get used to this man's shy mannerisms.

…

Weeks went by, and Remus became an incredibly close friend of mine. Our classes no longer felt like classes. Yes, he taught and I learned, but the giggles and snide jokes that carried throughout some of the most amazing conversations I had ever had passed the time; not to mention the way Remus's eyes lit up when speaking about certain novels.

"I'm telling you Ri, Charles Dickens is one of the best authors of our time., Christmas is approaching, so would you please read _A Christmas Carol_ for me?."

He was begging, using those pouty pink lips, and we had a silent agreement that his eyes were a weakness of mine—that sly bastard.

Soft chuckles bubbled in my throat. "Only if you read it to me."

…

It was December the 3rd, 1823, when I first realized that I was in love with my tutor. Him reading to me, lulling me to dreamland, dreaming of his voice... It was all too soon that that feeling flew over me.

The love seat in the library became a favourite spot of ours—my head in his lap and legs strewn over the arm of the couch; his fingers twisting and reshaping curls in the dark mop I called hair while they also turned the pages of a book I had long stopped paying attention to. The time we shared was intimate; I was head over heels, and I didn't think I could be without the sensation of his cold fingers on my scalp and the lullaby of his voice reading out the words of various authors.

"Remus?" It came out softly and breathily, almost inaudibly.

Remus paused his reading and locked his eyes on my own, as my stomach churning withhich butterflies. "Yes, Ri?" he answered.

You could tell he had grown more comfortable with me in these past months; he spoke his opinion freely and allowed me to be my affectionate and mad self without protest. These months with Remus also brought upon my shocking school improvement, although every so often something stupid would breach my lips during class and he would answer, smiling, as if my confusion was endearing.

"Uh… nothing, keep reading." Working up the courage to speak to him about my feelings was a slow process so far.

His fingers carded through my just-about-too-long hair. "Is this about your crush on me?"

The look of shock that had taken over my features must have been a sight, because the laughter that racked through his shoulders would have been adorable if not for my heart's involvement in the situation.

"How is it possible that someone as intelligent as you can be so unfathomably dense? I've been courting you for weeks now." His smile was so bright and wide... "Even your mother knows."

"Oh," I muttered, my internal organs dancing the polka. "Alright."

His fingers brushed gently over my cheekbones. "Is that Alright with you? Courting, that is?"

My answer was in the form of a hesitant, soft, press of lips that ignited a fire between us.


	27. The Routine

The Houses Competition

Slytherin, Transfiguration, Drabble

[Speech] "Hey [Name], do you want to help?" / "I wish I could, but I don't want to."

Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Muggle History Task 2: Write about something/someone being over the top or dramatic.

Word Count: 515

Draco Malfoy has this confidence anyone would kill for; the way he moves with this sophisticated grace that somehow manages to instantly capture my gaze. His delicate pointed nose and expertly knotted silk ties; his attire too elegant for his reception position at the station.

"Good morning Mr. Malfoy," a charming sir tugging at the corners of my mouth, "I present you one pumpkin spice latte."

His annoyed eye roll- sometimes I think he's going to lose those pretty eyes in the back of his head- may not express it, but I know that he is secretly very appreciative of the coffee I bring him each and every morning.

He tentatively takes the to-go cup in both of his ever-so-soft hands, slowly raising it to his plush lips. My obvious staring at his adorable mouth is another part of our routine.

"Don't you have a case to analyze attend too," hip jutting outwards with a hand resting on his hip.

I give him one last look up and down, "Of course, I'm off my Little Dragon."

…

My hands fist in my cropped dark locks due to frustration, this dam case has had my head pounding beyond Advil for hours now.

"Having troubles with a case there Detective Wood?"

Raising my head off of the desk to get a better view of the blonde sitting with his long legs crossed elegantly on the wooden desk across from me. His stormy grey eyes were cast down, staring intently at the glass file slowly shaping his already perfect nails.

Eyes still focussed on the file, "Is that the Meyer case?"

"Uh yeah," Slightly shocked.

"Did you consult the Security Footage?"

I begin to tug at my hair, "Draco, what do you think I am, new at my job?"

Another one of his signature eye rolls follow, "No, I just know that some of you fancy smancy detectives get frustrated before watching the full reel of security footage," a small smirk gracing his plush mouth. The boy knows he isn't stupid, he just has to put up such dramatics.

A small smile curves my mouth, "Hey Draco, do you want to help?"

"I wish I could, but I don't want to."

Slender arms pull himself off of the desk and back onto the ground, dainty hand smooth his crisp white button up. Churning grey eyes turn to me and a casual wink is sent my way.

That boy continues to make me laugh, his dramatic personality, and adorable looks all contributing to the massive crush I have on my coworker. Stacking my papers back into the case file I begin to exit the building for the night.

"Hey, uh, Oliver," a fierce blush ignites on his cheeks, "Do you, uh, maybe, want to get dinner tonight."

I was shocked, I stood, perplexed at his offer; I had never suspected he may have felt the same attraction as I did. Maybe that spark wasn't so imaginary.

"Yeah," I nod, "I'd like that."

"I'll be over at 7:30."

And that was definitely not part of our routine.


End file.
